Empire's Last Gleaming
by Bearsbandit53
Summary: The Empire is on its last legs and as it slides to its final moments, a hero is reborn. With him rest the fate of Tamriel as he faces a world so familiar yet so alien. Dark forces are gathering and as the world is thrown into chaos and despair only the hero will be able to bring salvation to those of Nirn, or by his hand they will all burn.


Hello and welcome to my New Story, Empire's Last Gleaming. I have been thinking about writing this story for sometime, but I have been playing ESO which made me want to play Skyrim which then reminded me it would be a wonderful idea to write this story. For those of you familiar with my from my other story Radioactive Dawn, do not think that I am abandoning that story in favor of this one. I am working on the next chapter right now but have been tied up due to school and the horrible finals I am currently experiencing. I will be updating both stories sometime within the next week or two once school is over for the summer.

Now, about this story. It is an Elder Scrolls story. A wonderful series that I greatly enjoy. This is the Prologue of the story so not much action or craziness because I am simply setting the story up for it to really begin. I will explain more in the comments at the end because I do not want to spoil anything.

Also I will admit that I have never read any Fanfictions on the Elder Scrolls so if there are any ideas that correlate with another story then you stole my idea, even if you wrote it three years ago so I expect an apology. Other than that...

Enjoy!

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Prologue

Jakson Haxell sat in the dimming light of the setting sun. A crisp coolness in the wind brushed against his skin, the last remnants of the failing power of winter against the beginning days of First Seed. He took great enjoyment of having the time to simply think on the weather. Over the past year his life he had lost the ability to focus on such little things such as a cool spring breeze. Within the past year the madness the burned within his mind had grown stronger and harder to deal with. Each day was becoming more of a challenge for Jakson, each moment a another battle. As the battle continued Jakson Haxell, known as the Hero of Kvatch and the 7th Champion of Cyrodiil, knew that his end was fast approaching.

As the setting sun continued to give up its control over the sky shadows grew strong. With a simple swipe of his hand, Jakson brought fire to the torches surrounding him and light to the darkening world. He marveled at his ability to use magic, an ability usually to unstable in his hands to be trusted as of late. His current location allowed him to push back the madness just enough to give him some level of control, though it was minimal at best. He gazed up at the petrified form of Martin Septim in his avatar form and gave silent thanks to his friend for the comfort that he gave him even after his death.

The condition of the Temple District was the same as the rest of Imperial City. Scars earned in the battle against Mehrunes Dagon still marked the city. Trash littered the ground around the city and the stink of all the unfortunate refugees hung in the air. The Oblivion Crisis had taken its toll on the Empire and restoration was coming along at a slow place. People from all provinces had lost their homes in the during the conflict and many of those fled to the strong walled cities. Food was still a problem but things were beginning to look better as the situation around Tamriel improved. Within a few years Jakson hoped the Empire would be restored to its glory that he was familiar with.

He turned his attention back to the statue. He had only recently discovered the effects of being in its proximity. As the madness consumed him and his body became weaker he found himself turning to the prayer hoping that the gods would be able to help him. He found himself in the roofless Temple of the One to pray only a week ago on a trip to the Market District and felt something different within its walls. The temple did not by itself dim the madness but Jakson found that here and only here could he through strong focus block the imbalances in his mind. As he sat on the floor under the new night's sky he opened up his carrying bag bringing out a few items. The first was a letter from Potentate Ocato explaining that the Elder Council had rejected his request to set up a lab within the Temple and to stay there in attempt to fight off the madness. Ocato knew of Jakson's condition, one of the few that did, and he knew that the Potentate had done all he could to help, but the Council overruled him. They held to the reasoning that the Temple needed to be a symbol to the citizens of the Empire and not chained to just one man, for whatever reason. Jakson did not even have the energy to give a moment to hate them. Instead he pulled out another sheet of paper from his bag and a pen to go with it and began writing his final will and testament.

Over the past two years, during the Oblivion Crisis and after he had acquired a small fortune as well as various holding around Cyrodiil, some known and others hidden. He knew that his assets would be valuable to those he had grown close too, those that were interested in doing good who he knew were loyal the Empire. He would leave many of his belongings to the Mages and Fighters Guild. While he had stepped down as leader of both due to his condition he could still help them after he passed with his large collection of artifacts going to the Mages and a good amount of coin and a few armories going to the Fighters. They would also get certain pieces of property each benefiting the guilds uniquely. He had spent what time he had molding the two guilds into something strong and powerful, two pillars the Empire could hold fast too during its time of strife.

As he wrote down what would go to who his thoughts drifted momentarily to the Thieves Guild. As the Grey Fox he had left Armand Christophe in charge of the guild over the past months telling him that he, as the Grey Fox, would be out of touch for the foreseeable future in preparation for a grand heist. As the guild member Jakson Haxell, he had become less active in the Guild withdrawing into his home of Wizard's Tower where he had spent the last few months searching for a cure. While he could not leave to the Thieves Guild any property or gold legally he would leave them information. He had compiled a list of the rich and powerful that sought to take advantage of the Empire's weakened state. This list was compiled over the past year through various means and held information on hundreds of people all around Tamriel. The list provided locations of numerous locations of wealth and artifacts that the members of the thieves guild would find wonderful and Armand had been left explicit instructions to stay away from jobs benefitting those aligned against the Empire. While Armand was a very good thief, he was also a very proud citizen and cared for the Empire almost as much as Jakson, even if he broke stole a few things now and then.

Jakson even in his madness was dedicated to the Empire in all his pursuits. It scarred him to think of how weak it currently was. With a full heart he hated his condition. It was not death that frightened him, but the knowledge that he would no longer be able to protect the civilization and people he cared for. There were dark avenues that he could explore as well as deals that could be made with deadra for possible salvation but he knew that in the end he would suffer as well as those around him. He knew that if his path continued in the current direction the madness would consume him, but he would put himself down by his own hand before he would allow that. Until that time he would do everything in his power to help the Empire as much as mortally possible. He only hoped that he would recognize when he was close enough to losing it and would leave this world on a good note. As the night matured for the evening Jakson continued working on his will distributing what worldly possessions he had to those that could most benefit.

-)(-

As an hour passed by the air in the temple changed. The cool night air became pregnant with an unnatural warmth. A gust of wind swirled around the open room ruffling the papers Jakson held. With his back against one of the legs of the Avatar statue in the center of the room he watched as the air swirled around him picking up dirt and bits of rubbish from the ground. The torches lost their fire and the room was plunged into darkness. Then the wind died down allowing for the voices of the city's populace to be heard in a tone of revelry. Then the air thundered and only a few feet away from Jakson the air tore apart. Light so powerful filled the temple and splashed against the walls. The light burned his skin and he could hear noises coming from the tare of light. Noises so sweet that he wanted to jump towards the light, enter and let it envelop him, even if the heat of the light consumed him. A shadowy figure appeared in the center. With a dark body and shining blue eyes it stepped through the tare and put a foot onto the hard stone floor of the temple. After the creature had pulled the rest of its body across the tare, the light dimmed and the opening began to enclose till all that was left was a thing fluctuating line left in the air of solid white light.

In the darkness Jakson starred at the creature. He was weak and knew he was no match for a real fight. He reached behind his back a put his hand on the hilt of his poisoned dagger attached to a harness under his clothes. As he firmly grabbed the dagger the creatures eyes began to dim and lose their shining blue blaze till they hardly stood out at all. He watched as the creature raised its dark hand and Jakson prepared to lunge. As the creature's hand came still the fire returned to the torches around the room. Jakson gasped and his hand left the dagger as he stared at the man before him. Enveloped in a faint shimmer of blue was Uriel Septim VII. He wore the same purple and red robes he had worn the last time Jakson had seen him when he was laying in his own blood in the sewers underneath the city. On his chest the Amulet of Kings glowed a majestic red. Jakson did not know what to think stuck in a momentary state of being dumbstruck by the sight. His wits flooded back and the understanding that person in front of him could easily be a imposter, and most likely so, did not escape him.

"Please Jakson, I mean you know harm," spoke the former emperor in a voice true to memory as Jakson's hand went back to the dagger. "Might I sit?" he asked. Jakson gave him a nod unsure of what to do but knowledgeable to the fact that in his current state it would be better for the being in front of him to be closer for attack if things turned sour.

The former emperor approached Jakson and sat down onto the dirty floor close to Jakson. To Jakson, whether the man was an imposter or not it was strange to see the emperor sitting on the floor like a commoner. The man claiming to be Uriel looked around and eyes fixed on the statue of Martin's final act. "It is a rare thing for a man to be blessed enough to go out in so great of a way," said Uriel. "To not only die defending that which we believe in and those we care for but also win the fight in the end is something many will never experience. For the rest of us, we will meet death in the worst ways, rarely being lucky enough to pass simply in our sleep." His eyes met Jakson's as he finished speaking. "I have much to think you for Jakson. You went above and beyond what I asked you to do and you became a good ally and most importantly a friend to my son. In this world a true friend is often hard to come by."

Jakson eyed the old man as he spoke. His mind dared to not believe that what he was seeing was true, it was either the result some trickster or perhaps the loss of his sanity. "How do I know you are really who you look like?" he asked in a level and firm voice full of authority.

Silence met his question for only a moment. "To that you only have my word that I am truly Uriel Septim the seventh. Whether you believe my word or not is of course up to you. "

"Assume I believe you then," said Jakson. "Let us say I believe that you are a dead man and not some impersonator. Why are you here?"

"And that is the question of the era isn't it," chuckled Uriel. "I admit that it is quite that this is quite unusual for a dead man to enter the world of the living, usually those that do cross are less... corporeal. But you did me a favor and carried it out even though you had no obligation to do so. For that I am in your debt. Due to the debt as well as the reasons of the Nine that have heard you prayers form the foundation as to why I am here. You are a dying man, Champion of Cyrodiil."

"That I am," responded Jakson with an annoyed tone. "Which is why I don't have time for those that want to play tricks on me and waste my time." While his tone was annoyed in his mind he was clenching that his prayers had been answered and that this was not some hoax performed by another or even his own mind."

Uriel just gave him a warm smile. "Do you know how you came to possess the madness you have within your mind?"

"No, I don't," said Jakson flatly. "I don't suppose you do?" The cause of his madness was truly unknown to Jakson. He leaned forward towards Uriel hoping to receive at least some information on what had plagued him. All his research so far had produced not a cause nor cure.

"Not only can I tell you that but I can also tell you that no matter what you do you cannot stop it from consuming your body. Even death won't stop it."

"Then what is it," asked Jakson almost pleadingly. He was so desperate, so close to being gone that what the man said shot through him like a molten arrow.

"You can thank this predicament to Sheogorath," stated Uriel grimly. "When you defeated Jyggalag in the Shivering Isles, you did what none have done before and what Sheogorath had hoped for. You broke Jyggalag of his curse and freed him but he and Sheogorath while the same being are at the same time separate. Sheogorath no more wanted to be cursed with Jyggalag as Jyggalag did of him, so he found a way around it. Before he fully transformed he separated his consciousness from his body and formed a bridge within your own mind. When you defeated Jyggalag and were given the rule of the Shivering Isles, that bridge was activated and Sheogorath began moving from his place outside of space and time and into you, a being free of the threat of Jyggalag who had been announced the rightful ruler of a realm also free from Jyggalag."

"So you are saying that I am becoming Sheogorath?" asked Jakson. He had not realized that when he was declared the new Sheogorath that it was so literal.

"No, I am afraid not," said Uriel to a confused Jakson. "Bodies are simply vessels, they hold our souls and minds much like soul gems and they can only hold one soul at a time. When Sheogorath's consciousness finishes filling into you, your body will be transformed into one of the deadra and your soul and all that makes you will be destroyed. Nothing can stop this, even here the effects are only less felt but the change is happening. The madness that keeps growing stronger in your mind is Sheogorath and there is nothing either you or the divine can do to prevent the prince of madness from returning and taking your body. Even your soul won't survive, you will simply cease to be in this life and the next."

"Then why are you here?" asked Jakson weakly. Hopelessness ran through him at the Uriel's last sentence. If what he said was true then even he was truly lost.

"But all is not lost," said Uriel as if reading his mind. "What would be the point of this if there wasn't some hope?"

"But you just said that nothing could be done," said Jakson.

"Nothing could be done to save your body, but your soul is another matter, that which makes you, is another matter."

"What do you mean?"

Uriel looked at Jakson calmly. "Even in death a leader must serve his people just as I do now before you. You have a great love for this Empire, nearly equal my own and even though you have been dying you still did all you could to keep my civilization safe. The Empire and its faith in all the Nine are critical for the survival of not only Tamriel but all of Nirn. The Nine Divine can see into the future and they see what will come to pass in so short a time. Their solution and your key to survival are one in the same. They offer you the chance to live, by ripping your soul from your body and placing it inside another."  
"Then what of my body?" asked Jakson.

"Your body by this act will be fully open to the will of Sheogorath and its transformation will be complete. It will be his."

"And of this other, must he pay the same price I face of total destruction for me to live in him?"

"No," responded Uriel. "Through him flows powerful blood but he doesn't have the will to do what must be done. Yet in some act of black humor, he is the one which this world depends upon. But fortune smiles upon us. He died and his soul was released and ascended into the heavens."

"How does that help me?"

"Because my son, time has little meaning to the Nine. They can look into past and the future and interact with each. They are holding the body for you and you alone, and when your soul is placed inside, the body will be yours and it will live again."

"Won't that be odd, for a body to come back from the grave?" asked Jakson.

"As I said time has little meaning for the divine. You will be placed inside and brought back to live within the second that the original soul died and left. To anyone watching it will be as if you just nodded off."

"Might I ask what the person that I might inhabit died from?" Jakson could only imagine waking with his new body torn in half or being eaten by some creature.

"He died from a problem in his brain," said Uriel. "He passed in the fraction of a second without pain and did so peacefully. If you choose to accept this offer, then I assure you that the problem will not trouble you. You will wake up in a young and healthy body, much like your own before the madness."

Jakson just looked at Uriel in disbelief. He worried that madness had taken control of him, that the whispers had won and were now mocking him by giving him false hope. He wondered if this could really be. He hoped with everything that it was.

"But," continued Uriel. "Even though this body is young and healthy, it is not in the physical condition you were before the madness. It will take time to hone the body to meet your needs but it will not take too long. And your knowledge will remain with you, although you must first let you new body adapt. If you push yourself to hard in the beginning before you body does adapt, then you will suffer. But it will not be something that will take too long to overcome."

"How long do I have to decide?" asked Jakson.

"I need your answer now," responded Uriel.

Jakson did not know what to do. Did he dare trust this man who claimed to be the dead emperor? Was it some deadra trick or was it the madness playing with him? Even with his doubts, something felt right about what the man was saying. There was a warm feeling to him. In his mind he felt a joy similar to when he was a young child in the arms of his parents. He felt safe and secure with not only the man but could feel it radiating from line of white still floating in the air. It was a feeling that came deep within, and he with earnest he put to bed his doubts on the offer.

"I'll do it," declared Jakson with a firm resolve in his eyes.

"Very well," said Uriel with a warm smile. "One more warning then. It wise to keep who you really are a secret. I am sure some will find out with time, for most secrets are hard to keep especially from the deadra, but it does not look good for one to claim to be a dead man, especially when they don't even look like him," said Uriel with a wink.

Jakson gave a small laugh, one of the first in a long while. "So now that I have agreed to do this, what now?"

"Now, you finish what you were working on before I came. And then you go to sleep. It will all begin when you wake up." With that Uriel stood up and light once again flooded into the room from the rift. "Till we meet again, Champion," he said as he stepped back into the light once again taking on a shadowy appearance.

Jakson gave him a nod and the light disappeared as the tare closed completely. Once again Jakson lit the torches and finished his writing with a sense of energy and vigor he had not felt in months. When he was finished he stood up and took one last look at the statue of Martin in his final moment of glory. "Goodbye old friend," he said and walked out of the temple on his way to the Tiber Septim Hotel where he had his room.

As he entered the hotel he was greeted by Augusta Calidia who fussed over how pale he looked and told him to get some food before he went to bed. He politely shook her off went to his rented room.

Laying in his bed he could feel the madness within him. He could feel it was stronger than ever but it could not touch him tonight. There was still doubt in his mind that he had really found salvation, but he had agreed and now there was no turning back. He closed his prayed for the best as he drifted off into sleep.

-)(-

As Jakson woke up he realized in the first few moments of consciousness that the whispers of madness were gone. Not only could he not hear them but he could not feel its presence at all. But this elation was soon met with a hard pounding in his head. It felt as though he had been hit in the head with a hammer. As he became more conscious he felt himself being moved, like he was on a boat in rough, choppy waters. He felt a tingling sensation on his arm and realized he was very cold and the blowing wind chapped his skin. He could hear muffled voices talking around him. He tried to open his eyes but he was only met with a sharp whiteness. At first he thought it was the light from the night before but as his vision focused he saw that it was simply brilliant white snow reflecting the light of the sun.

He looked around him and realized they were on land and moving by wagon. There were men sitting next to him and they were arguing. His vision was still to blurred to make them out in detail but their tone was nervous. Finally the voices were no longer muffled in his ears and he could hear what they were saying.

"Hey," said a strong looking blonde man with a thick nordic accent to a man beside him. "What village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" asked the many nervously in response. He was thinner than the blond haired man and had brown hair and sharp features.

"A nord's last thoughts should be of home," responded the blonde man.

"Rorikstead, I'm from Rorikstead," said the brown haired man in a defeated tone.

As Jakson tried to figure out what was going on he realized his hands were bound. To his left he saw a gate to a town approaching. "General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting," called someone up ahead. Jakson immediately began to worry and wonder what in Oblivion he had gotten himself into. As he looked around wildly trying to think of something he could do, out of the corner of his eye he saw a black shadow soaring in the clouds for only a second before disappearing. He hoped that it was not a bad open as the wagons went through the town's gates.

* * *

Well that was that. Now first let me explain a few things. First of all the reason I chose for the main character of Oblivion to be the main character of Skyrim was because when I was playing that was how I felt. I played through the events of Oblivion and suddenly (after a couple years of waiting) found myself in the cold tundra of Skryim 200 years later. So it seemed fitting for the main character to do the same, and I figured why not, plus its an interesting plot element.

I also want to say that this story starts in earnest with the beginning of the game of Skyrim. However this is not simply going to be just a telling of Skryim. It starts in Skyrim and will deal with the main story as well as some of the side stories and factions, but will do so in a way that doesn't feel like the story is taking a pause at a crucial time to do something else. Also I do not plan on making the dialog exactly the same as the game. It will be the same in spirit but will be more fitting for a literary narrative. Also just because it happens in the game does not mean it will happen that same way in the story. If you want to have things happen the same way as in the game then play the game, its a really good game. But this story while being true most of the time will be different for the sake of not simply being the game and will instead be a unique creation, though heavily inspired.

That said the most important aspect of this story is that Skyrim is only the beginning. To me when I was playing it felt like the game stopped just before the beginning of the real climax and the is what I want to write here. A story that spans the entirety of Tamriel and becomes something great. With that in mind I intend for this to be a long story so get ready for a good ride.

Now on a final note, I am not perfect. The lore of the Elder Scrolls is very detailed and complicated so if I make any mistakes then tell me and I will do my best to correct them. Also I ask for your criticisms, both positive and negative. I am writing this story not only for myself but also for you. If you have any ideas see that anything is wrong please send me a private message or post a review. I will read all of them even if I don't always respond. Also if you are going to call me a psychopath, at least tell me why I am a psychopath.

Well now that all that is said, I hope you all enjoy the ride. I have some really neat plans for this story in the future as it progresses and becomes awesome. See you soon!


End file.
